


Accio_broom's Romione Tumblr Prompts

by accio_broom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Cunnilingus, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Panic Attacks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, chudleigh the dog, vet hermione granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_broom/pseuds/accio_broom
Summary: A collection of short stories written for requests, or inspired by things posted on Tumblr. Individual summaries are included with every chapter.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. Ron's Blanket

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to adenei's gentle coercion, I have opened my ask box on Tumblr. This is just somewhere where I can share my stories with those who don't have Tumblr.
> 
> If you're interested in following me, I'm @accio-broom over there! :-)

Hermione had finished her chores for the day. Ever since the war, and the Weasley’s invite for her to go and stay with them, she had been trying her hardest to be helpful. She mucked out chickens, degnomed the garden and did baskets full of washing.

Her main job, of course, was being there for Ron when he needed her. Since their kiss in the room of requirement, he had started opening up to her more. The ability to finally open up and discuss their feelings came as a surprise to both of them. But when Ron wasn’t around, she felt his loss.

It was raining, so she couldn’t go for a walk. Harry and Ron had started going to Weasley Wizard Wheezes to start the clean-up whilst George couldn’t face it, and Ginny had gone with them for the day. But Hermione couldn’t bring herself to go to the shop yet. Instead, she helped herself to a muggle storybook from the family bookcase. After considering where to get settled, she eventually picked Ron’s bedroom where she could finally enjoy an hour or two of peace.

Ron’s room was one of her favourite places in the house. They were starting to build some  _ delicious _ memories up there, but that wasn’t the only reason she liked it. It violently reminded her of him; his personality poured out of every crack—from the bright orange walls to the Chudley Cannons posters. It even smelled of him, despite being occupied by a ghoul for almost a year—earthy, with faint undertones of the sweets he had eaten up here.

On Ron’s bed lay a blanket that Molly had hand-knitted from all of Ron’s old jumpers. The Weasley matriarch added to it yearly, and it was slowly growing, draping well over the sides of Ron’s twin bed. It was a mismatch of colours that clashed horrifically with the rest of his bedroom. Hermione pulled it from Ron’s bed as she made her way to the window seat. She surveyed the view for a while before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and starting to read.

It was easy for Hermione to get lost in the fairytale, especially after only reading textbooks or the ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard’ whilst on the hunt. She revelled in the opportunity to disappear into another world, and a couple of hours passed quickly without her noticing.

A cough from the bedroom doorway finally roused her, and she turned her head quickly. Hermione’s heart immediately started to pound against her ribcage as she caught sight of Ron leaning wearily against the wooden doorframe. She watched him as he trudged across his room to his bed and flopped noisily onto it.

“You okay?” She studied him carefully as he rolled onto his side to look at her.

“Tired. Came up here for a nap, but it seems my blanket is missing!” Despite the fact he looked tired, Ron’s blue eyes still twinkled with mischief.

“Your duvet is still on your bed,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly as the corners of her mouth twitched.

“Hermione…”

The sound of her name on his lips caused a stirring deep in her belly. It was still a new feeling, but one she had enjoyed exploring with Ron. Slowly, as if to tease him, she pushed herself off the window seat and closed her book, sauntering over to him. She heard him growl a low moan of frustration. She put her book down on the bedside table and offered him the blanket, but before he could take it, she pulled it back.

Without waiting for an invite, she slid onto the bed next to him, turning to face him. For now, she kept his blanket behind her, holding onto it tightly with one hand.

“That was my blanket! Come on…”

He reached an arm over her, pushing himself closer to her. He had been working hard, and she tried to ignore the heat building inside her as she breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. His fingers, hard and calloused, pulled at her own, sending a shiver over her skin. Everything about him just turned her on, and she was finding it harder to resist his attempts.

“Nope!” She tried to wriggle out of his grip, without putting too much distance between them. “You need to pay me for it!” 

He pulled his arm back and slid two fingers under her chin, pushing her head up. “Will this be enough?” Slowly, he moved his face closer. Hermione licked her lips before closing her eyes, savouring the moment when their lips finally touched. She didn’t think she could ever get bored of kissing Ron, and she couldn’t believe it had taken them seven years to get this close.

As soon as the kiss started, Ron pulled away, eliciting a moan of disapproval from Hermione’s lips. He stared expectantly at her, waiting for the blanket. She wasn’t going to give into him that easily. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him crashing down for a harder kiss. He gasped in pleasure, and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue past his lips.

She rolled onto her back and waited for Ron to settle more of his weight on top of her. Carefully, she pulled the blanket over them, wrapping them tightly under the comforting pressure of the old battered wool.

Eventually, they pulled away, and Ron tucked his head under her chin. “That’s better.” He closed his eyes, his breathing already slowing down.

“It’s Sunday tomorrow,” Hermione whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair, stroking it in the way she knew he loved. “Do you fancy the usual?”

“Sleeping in?” His eyes blinked open, already full of sleep, and he tilted his head up so he could look at her better. “Hell yeah!”

“Well, I was hoping for other things too, but I guess sleeping in is a nice start.”

“You’ll stay in here tonight?”

“If I can get away with it. But nap now, we can make arrangements with Harry and Ginny later.” Hermione reached for her book, letting Ron settle down against her before quietly reading to him. It didn’t take long before he was fast asleep, a small smile on his face. She was grateful that she could give him even a moment of peace. She continued to read to him, hoping that her words would give him pleasant dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “When was the last time you ate anything?” _

Hermione rolled her eyes as she read the letter—a singular line in Ron’s familiar scrawl. She was expecting it; both he and Molly had commented on how thin she had looked when she returned to the Burrow for Christmas.

Sure, she had struggled to get her appetite back after living off rations for so long and most of the food in the Great Hall was too rich now. It made her feel ill.

Hermione took a bite of the slice of toast as if in spite before digging out a piece of parchment so she could write him a reply. Once it was done, she tied it to the leg of the waiting owl and watched it fly away. She gathered up her things and headed out to class, forgetting about the half-eaten slice of toast still on her plate.

⁂

Pigwidgeon was waiting for her. He gave her a doleful hoot as she crept into the girl’s dormitory, eliciting a sleepy curse from Ginny.

It had been a month since she’d last heard from Ron, and she knew what he had written before she’d even unrolled the parchment.

Hermione suppressed the panic bubbling up from her stomach as her breath caught in her throat. She acknowledged the attack, her fingers fumbling for the wood of her four-poster bed to ground her. 

_ Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. _

The moment eventually passed, and she wearily dropped down to her bed, her head spinning. Pig gave another hoot, and plucked at her finger to remind her he was there.

“Answer the damn owl, Hermione.” Ginny rolled over in her bed as Hermione watched her guiltily. Slowly, she unravelled the parchment.

_ “When was the last time you ate anything?” _

Truthfully, she couldn’t even remember. She felt another surge of guilt as she racked her brains. She’d missed dinner to cram in some extra hours in the library and she couldn’t be so certain she made it to lunch. The hours always melted into one, especially as her workload steadily grew.

Maybe taking seven N.E.W.T’s wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.

“Go sleep in the Owlery, Pig. I’ll write him back tomorrow.”

The owl gave her a sad look before taking flight through the open window. Hermione shuffled up her bed until she crashed against the headboard. She had no energy to get changed. She’d just get a couple of hours of sleep, and then she’d definitely see if she could get a sandwich or a biscuit.

⁂

Hermione woke, disorientated and dizzy. She tried to sit up and felt a rush of pain flooding her head, like tiny ice picks stabbing at her temple. Calloused, hard fingers traced over her brow, although they did nothing to still the ache. Her eyes closed, and a tear escaped down her cheek.

“Lie back down, give yourself time,” his voice was barely a whisper, yet she knew who it belonged to. He pushed at her shoulder firmly, and she did as she was told.

“Why are you in my room? You’re not allowed up here!” She tried to force her eyes to focus, desperate to find his handsome features in the orange blur still hovering above her. Hermione knew he’d be frowning, but she didn’t care. She needed to see his face to know he was real.

“You got up in the middle of the night and collapsed. You’re in the infirmary,” Ron sighed, and Hermione felt it deep within her bones.

“I got to bed late and Pig was waiting for me. I had been studying in the library until Madam Pince threw me out. That’s all I remember.” Her eyes finally started to focus, just in time to see a wry smile appear.

“Hermione, when was the last time you ate anything?”

“I… I can’t remember,” she felt ashamed, and her cheeks burned.

“F—” The swear disappeared before it had chance to escape his lips. “Hermione! I knew this would happen without me here. Ginny told me you’d signed up for seven N.E.W.T’s. You promised me five! I knew this would happen. You got busy, and stressed, and then you forgot to eat. How are you supposed to study on no energy?”

He started to get up, and Hermione felt a rush of blind panic. It was starting again, but this time nothing she could do would stop it. She grasped for his hand, handicapped by her position lying in the bed.

“Don’t….” She used the last of her energy to pull him close. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him she didn’t deserve his concern. She was going to fail her exams and never graduate. The thoughts the Horcurxes embedded deep in her mind threatened to take over.

She was not good enough.

Her sobs turned to gasps and she found herself struggling for air. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide with terror as her grip on him slipped. She tried to ground herself in his deep, blue eyes.

“Breathe, Hermione. C’mon, you have to breathe…”

He counted, and she tried to coordinate each breath with a number. She closed her eyes, bringing up image after image of The Burrow, of their Christmas together, of summers spent lazing in the meadows next to the lake, of Ron.

Eventually, she started to calm down and she loosened her grip.

“M’okay,” Hermione nodded, more to herself. She watched as Ron visibly relaxed and she felt another surge of guilt. He probably had to skip training to be with her. She shouldn’t be putting him through this.

“Okay,” he matched her nod. “I’m going to leave you, just for a minute, so that I can get Pomfrey, okay? She needs to know you’re awake. Then I’m going to go down to the kitchens and get you a sandwich. Once you’ve eaten  _ all _ of it, we’ll sort everything out.”

Hermione let go of him, albeit reluctantly and watched him go.  _ Since when did he become the more grounded, mature one _ ? she thought. She let her head drop back against the pillow. Soon, they would sort this mess out.

But first, she was hungry.


	3. At the Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron & Hermione try and steal a moment at the Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For adenei <3

Molly and Arthur had to switch up the regular Sunday Roast dinners for a monthly BBQ. They had no other choice—the Weasley brood had increased so much, they couldn’t all fit around the table anymore. Come rain or shine (and given the weather in Devon, it was mostly raining), the old marquee went up, and Arthur cooked burgers and sausages on his muggle barbecue.

Ron glanced around the garden, missing the bushy head of his wife, who was nowhere to be found. He narrowed his eyes as he searched again before glancing up at the house, finally spotting her at the top of the Burrow in his old bedroom window, waving down at him with a wicked smile. He checked on the kids, who were happily harassing Charlie, before heading up to her.

“I’ve been waiting up here for a while. I was starting to consider sending you a note with Pig!” The door shut behind Ron with a flick of Hermione’s wand, and he felt a grin creep over his face.

Ron took two steps towards her. She looked stunning against the fiery orange of his bedroom walls. “What are you doing up here, anyway?” It was a question that he didn’t need to ask; his body was already responding to the hungry look in her eyes.

“Want to find out what we can get away with before someone comes looking for us?” Hermione’s voice was low and loaded with passion, and Ron didn’t need to asking twice. He closed the gap between them quickly, seeking out her lips in a heated kiss. They’d been at this for years by now, and he knew what he needed to do.

His tongue invaded her mouth as he trailed his hands down her sides. Ron’s fingers found the edge of her skirt, and he pushed it up expertly, using one hand to clamp it around her waist. 

Carefully, he pushed her back towards his childhood bed, moaning against her lips as their tongues continued to dance against each others. Eventually, Hermione’s legs hit the wooden frame, and Ron tore his lips from hers as he pushed her unceremoniously down onto the duvet.

He couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his lips as she wriggled out of her knickers, practically throwing them at him. He pocketed them to keep them safe.

“You’re keen!”

“You’re complaining?” She cocked an eyebrow, sending a pule of pleasure straight to his cock. He was uncomfortably hard now, and she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Not at all.” Hermione expected him to penetrate her; he could see it in the wanton look in her eyes. Instead, he dropped to his knees on the floor beside the bed. She looked confused until he slid his tongue between her folds.

“Merlin, Ron.” He fed at her clit, putting every learnt technique into practice. She let out a louder moan, her lips lifting from the bed and her thighs clamping around his ears. He lifted his face, momentarily for breath. “Shh, or we’ll get caught!”

The look of her flushed face on top of his old Chudley Cannons duvet spurred him on. He continued his assault with his tongue, eventually letting two fingers join it. He gripped her thigh in a vain attempt to stop her from suffocating him.

Hermione groaned his name, although this time it was muted by the hand clamped over her mouth. By the way she was squirming, she was close. If he moved quickly, maybe he’d be able to get a shag out of her too. The fingers of her spare hand slid into his red hair, pulling at it hard, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to take much more.

Ron was so absorbed in bringing her to completion that he didn’t hear the footsteps on the rickety wooden staircase. Suddenly, the door was flung open, and he pushed himself quickly away from Hermione’s body, leaving her to pull her skirt down in an attempt at some form of modesty. She let out an exasperated moan at the lack of contact. 

He hazarded a glance at the now opened door. _Please, not George or Mum._ He could handle the kids, most of them were too young to question what they were up to, and he needed both fingers and toes to count the number of times Rose or Hugo had interrupted them.

Harry was stood in the doorway, his cheeks blushing bright pink. The git was deliberately avoiding looking at Ron and Hermione, like a prude old maid.

“The food is ready. Molly sent me up here!” Harry closed the door again quickly, and Ron could faintly hear him mumbling about locking spells, and y _ou’d think they would have learnt by now_ , punctuated by his heavy footsteps.

Ron threw Hermione her pants with a guilty look, but the witch was cackling on the bed.

“Why is it always, Harry?!” She smoothed down her skirt and offered Ron her wand so he could clean himself up properly. “The poor man must be traumatised by now! Are you coming back down?”

“I may need a few, love.” He nodded down at his crotch, grateful that Hermione stopped laughing as she noticed his discomfort.

“Okay, but don’t take too long. Save it for later when the kids are in bed, yeah?” She gave him a hard kiss that did nothing to quell his excitement before leaving him alone in his old bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed with a frustrated sigh and started to recall Quidditch stats.


	4. Hands

The war was finally over, but Ron, Harry and Hermione couldn’t find relief yet.

Bodies still covered the floor, strewn amongst the remains of the castle and half-hidden under the layers of dust and debris. But they couldn’t deal with those yet.

Instead, they moved around the castle — visiting the injured and catching up with their loved ones. Ron and Hermione couldn’t let Harry out of their sight, especially not after seeing Hagrid carry his body out of the Forbidden Forest.

Eventually, their long day started to draw to a close, and they finally sat down in the Great Hall for a proper meal. Sitting amongst the solemn Weasleys, it was easy to forget it had been almost 24 hours since their meagre meal at the Hog’s Head and even longer since they’d last slept.

Once they finished their meal, weariness started to creep upon them. 

“Where shall we go?” Hermione asked the question, and all three of them realised that they didn’t have a plan for once or did they need to put together a plan. It felt strange to live a day without purpose, even if it would be shortlived.

Harry shrugged, leaving Ron to respond. “Mum and Dad reckon the Burrow won’t be safe for a few days yet, and we’ll have a lot of work to do to make it liveable. Grimmauld Place is probably out too.”

“I guess so,” she sighed. “Gryffindor tower, then?”

With the decision agreed and supported by Molly, they trudged off. At some point, Ginny joined them, which Hermione supposed was inevitable. They made their way through the castle, stopping every time someone wanted to congratulate them or give the trio their thanks. They endured it, knowing that if it only brought comfort to one person, it would be worth it.

The group stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Hermione peered up at the point where they split into two, leading to the tower’s male and female side. Harry and Ginny soon stowed themselves away to a quiet corner, leaving Hermione and Ron alone in relative peace.

“Do you reckon the charm still works?” Ron glanced back up at the stairs before returning his gaze to Hermione.

She shrugged, too exhausted to try and work it out. “I guess I could come up with you to the boy’s dorms?” She felt conflicted. The thought of leaving Ron, or Harry, alone tonight caused anxiety to bubble low in her stomach. But at the same time, she just wanted to sleep, and she knew that soon, the rest of the Weasley boys would be climbing the stairs to the dormitory.  _ Minus one, _ the morbid thought had crept into her mind before she’d even had a chance to register it, and she suppressed a sob.

Hermione knew it was selfish, but she wanted to have time to cry alone, to explore her grief and relief safely within the confines of her old four-poster bed — the one she had been craving since they departed The Burrow suddenly almost a year ago. She needed to be strong for Ron and his family, but to do that, she would need to deal with her own feelings first. 

Of course, she’d be open to talking to him about it, but later, once Fred was buried.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck in the way that showed Hermione he was feeling nervous or scared about something. A small smile crept on to her face, and she decided to rescue him from feeling guilty about what he wanted to say. It delighted her in how well she knew him and how in tune they were with each other.

“Your brothers will be up to bed soon. I think it’s crucial you all spend the night together as a family, and there’ll be no space for me there too. I’ll send Ginny to you, and I’ll look after Harry tonight.”

“Is that okay?” Ron’s relief at Hermione deciding for them was soon replaced with concern, and she felt another pang of guilt.

“I don’t know. But we’ll survive one night without you, I promise.” Hermione leaned in, pressing her lips against his gently. Their second kiss was less passionate than the first, but that didn’t mean there were any fewer feelings between the two of them.

They eventually pulled away when they needed breath. There would be time later for the couple’s 3rd, 10th, or 100th kiss as their post-war days progressed. Hermione was looking forward to them and getting a chance to discuss their flourishing relationship, but they needed to sleep and time to heal for now.

“Good night then,” Ron had a smile on his face, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. That was okay; it would again in time.

“Night, Ron.” She turned and made her way wearily up the stairs, hoping that nobody else had claimed her bed in the 7th year dormitory. As she got to the room, a little thought brought her a wave of comfort that would see her through until breakfast when she would be back with him:  _ She only realised they were holding hands the entire time, the moment they had to let go. _


	5. Happy Birthday Ron Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Ron wanted for his birthday was to see Hermione

Ron cast his eyes around the Transfiguration classroom.  _ Merlin, it feels strange to be back here. _ He took in the posters and diagrams of charms until finally, his eyes settled on his girlfriend, Hermione. She had her head down and was furiously writing an essay. She had taken the furthest desk away from him deliberately, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

Hermione turned her head, sending him a burning glare across the desks. If looks could kill, he would have been dead and buried just from the glances thrown his way tonight. 

He supposed he deserved it. Only Ron Weasley could land himself in detention on his birthday when he didn’t even go to school anymore, and get his brilliant girlfriend involved too.

Ron’s laugh roused Professor McGonagall from her marking, and she lifted her head, her lips drawn in a tight line. “You are having way too much fun here, Mr Weasley, but I think that will be enough for tonight. Miss Granger, are you okay to see Ronald out of the school?”

The offer came as a surprise to both of them. Ron had fully expected McGonagall to take him by the elbow and march him out of the front door. His heart started to pound erratically in his chest. Maybe he would get a chance to finish what they had started before they were interrupted by the Headmistress after all.

Hermione considered the request, chewing her bottom lip in the way that she knew drove him insane. He had a sinking feeling she was going to refuse — that she would prefer to go and sulk in the Gryffindor Common Room over the fact that Ron had ruined her one chance to get a perfect year in school. 

Ron watched her closely as she turned her head, a wicked grin forming on her face. Her fingers grazed over the shining red Head Girl badge that had been pinned ever so precisely over her heart, and he gulped. He was in deep trouble.

“Sure, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow.” To the untrained ear, Hermione’s voice sounded calm and collected, but only Ron could hear the quiver of her voice and the slight pause as she fought to catch her breath.  _ She is as wound-up as me, _ he thought with a smirk.  _ This could be fun. _

“Thank you, Miss Granger. Let us hope this is the last time I see you in detention. Oh, and Mr Weasley — you know you are not permitted to be in the school unless with an official invitation from myself or the Deputy Headmaster. Might I suggest you keep your romantic endeavours for the scheduled Hogsmeade trips? I do not wish to find you canoodling in the corridors of the school again, do I make myself clear?”

Ron nodded sincerely, trying to ignore the burning in the tips of his ears. “Yes, of course, Professor McGonagall.” He pushed himself up from his seat and held his hand out to Hermione, but she ignored it. He expected that and probably deserved a lot more. He started to follow her out of the class.

“Oh, and Ronald?” Minerva waited for him to stop at the door. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, uhm, Professor!” He was pretty sure he saw the corner of McGonagall’s mouth twitch as he made a hasty exit. She probably enjoyed tormenting him too. He sighed as he made a hasty exit, following Hermione down the corridor.

“Hermione! Wait…” He started to call for her, but the witch refused to listen. She kept a steady pace, and Ron decided to walk behind her instead of trying to catch-up. At least this way, he’d be able to ingrain the vision of her in knee-high socks and her school skirt — although it wasn’t as if that image hadn’t provided him at least three years of wanking material. But this time, she was angry with him and Merlin; he loved it.

Hermione took a wrong turn, and Ron frowned. He was pretty sure the only thing down this corridor was a broom cupboard and the statue of Furious Fargo. “Hermione, this is the wrong way — ” She glared at him, and he instantly shut up. He didn’t want to push her mood.

Arguing with Hermione was a delicate skill, one Ron had perfected over the many years of knowing her. It was a fine line between ending up shagging or not talking for days. One wrong move and he’d end up not seeing her again until the summer.

Before he knew what was happening, she pulled him into the broom cupboard. With a swift flick of her wand, she locked the door with  _ Colloportus _ and added a silencing charm for good measure before whacking him on the arm. She barely touched him, but Ron still rubbed at the spot, an amused smile on his face.

“Bloody hell, what was that for?!”

“That was for turning up at the school unannounced and getting me into trouble!” Her eyes flashed with anger.

“How was I to know that McGonagall was going to come along and catch us? I hadn’t even realised the invisibility cloak had slipped off us!”

“It was embarrassing! I’m Head Girl, and you almost had your hands down my knickers!” She hit him again.

“Hermione! Ow! I’m sorry, okay? I missed my girlfriend and wanted to snog her. It’s my birthday, after all. Can’t a guy get a little of what he wants? You don’t even know how bloody hard it was sneaking in here!”

She eyed him, the line between her brows softening. “Did you think I had forgotten?”

“No, of course not. I was at work before the post came to the flat this morning. I wanted to start early so I could leave before the end of my shift so that I’d have time to see you before birthday drinks at the Leaky…” Ron’s eyes grew wide in realisation. “Oh bloody hell, I was supposed to meet Harry. He’s probably sat in the pub worried about me. I didn’t expect to be here for so bloody long!”

“Well, I’ll let you go so you can have your birthday drinks!” She pulled her bag from her shoulder and dug the invisibility cloak out of it, passing it to Ron before letting the rucksack drop to the floor at their feet. “Did you even have his permission to borrow it from him?”

Ron shook his head, a smile creeping back over his face. “You know I didn’t! If I asked then he’d get the same idea and come here to see my sister. I don’t want him shagging her all over Hogwarts!”

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to push me up against the wall on the third-floor corridor!” Hermione laughed, and Ron knew things were okay between them again. “Have you had a good birthday, though, love?” 

“It’s alright now, being here with you, I mean.” He let the cloak fall to the floor before placing his hands on her hips, his thumbs grazing over the wool of her skirt.  _ How could a piece of modest clothing make him so damn horny? _ He pushed her back carefully, laughing as they almost fell over a mop and bucket. Eventually, he got her to the back of the cupboard and pressed her gently against the shelves of cleaning potions. “Let’s just hope Filch doesn’t have to do any tidying up any time soon.”

He finally captured her lips in a hungry kiss, letting his hand crept under the material of her jumper and blouse and moaning at the feel of her soft skin under his touch. He tried his hardest to put everything into the snog; how much he loved and missed her. As she moaned against him, he realised that just getting a chance to see Hermione made it the best birthday ever, even though they’d spent the majority of their evening in detention. Snogging her only made it ten times better.


	6. Brown Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron takes his pet dog, Chudleigh, to the vets only to get a pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For folk_melody with the prompt - The dark brown eyes were the first thing he noticed.

Ron knew it was going to be one of those days. He had requested a long lunch break so that he could take his dog to the vets. When Ron got there, he had been met by a harassed looking receptionist who told him the surgery was running late. When he had implored further just how long he could expect to wait, she had only glared at him before turning back to her paperwork.

His pet dog had whined at the gesture, and Ron had met his eyes in agreement. “I know, mate; I don’t want to be here too long either!”

Nonetheless, he took his seat, letting the dog’s weight comfort him as he settled at his feet. The stupid thing had picked up a limp. He had first noticed it a few weeks ago and had been keeping a close eye on him for improvements since, but he didn’t seem to be getting any better. 

Every time Ron thought of his dog’s injury, his stomach churned with nerves. The poor pup was getting old now, and everything was a lot harder for him. He didn’t know what he’d do without his constant presence in his life. The wait, already half an hour longer than he had expected, was doing nothing to dampen his worries.

“Chudleigh?”

Ron had been mindlessly flicking through Instagram to try and bide the time, so it didn’t register with him that the vet was calling the dog’s name. She cleared her throat, then spoke up louder and more assertively.

“Chudleigh Weasley?”

The dog whined then let out a sharp bark. “Hey!” Ron frowned, finally lifting his head to look in the direction of the woman calling his dog’s name. 

The dark brown eyes were the first thing he noticed. They were paired with the bushiest mess of curly brown hair Ron had ever seen. The owner of the eyes and hair was beautiful — petite, but with a friendly face. He fumbled for Chudleigh’s lead as he got to his feet quickly, and the pair made their way slowly towards the vet.

“Oh, you’ve been in the wars, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah… it’s been a rough few weeks, actually…” Ron frowned at her, wondering how she knew, only feeling further confused when the petite brunette laughed.

“Well, I meant Chudleigh, but I’m sorry to hear you’ve been having a rubbish time too!” She held out her hand, and Ron shook it, trying to ignore the creep of heat from his neck. “I’m Doctor Granger, but you two can call me Hermione. This way, please!”

She let go of his hand then turned without waiting for a response or acknowledgement. She left the waiting room, leading Ron and Chudleigh down a short, sterile white corridor before pushing open the door to her examination room, waiting for them to head in first.

Chudleigh stopped on the threshold, throwing Ron a concerned look. For a dog that was so stupid, he definitely knew when something was wrong. Bad things happened in this room. He’d had a healthy life up until now, and they’d only visited the vets for vaccinations, and when he had the snip, so Ron didn’t blame the thing for being suspicious.

The dog whined again, and Ron pulled at his lead just a little bit harder. “Come on, you dickhead. She looks like a nice lady; I doubt she’s going to hurt you!” He threw an apologetic look towards her.

“Oh, it’s okay, he’s not the first animal to not want to see me. Try this!” Hermione opened a glass jar and held a treat up for the dog. Immediately, Chudleigh’s ears pricked up, and he trotted over to the bench, tail wagging and lead trailing behind him.

“He’s very food motivated. Fits in well with the rest of the family!” Ron rolled his eyes as the dog, seemingly forgetting about his bad leg, hopped up onto the examination table and stared adoringly at her.

“I don’t blame him,” Hermione gave Chudleigh the treat and ruffled his head before turning to Ron with a warm smile. “So what seems to be the problem?”

“He’s been limping,” Ron shoved his hands into his pocket, trying his best not to look overly worried about an animal. For some strange reason, he wanted Hermione to think he was a brave, cool man, not someone who cried over his pet pooch having a dodgy leg. “Around three weeks or so now. I’ve checked for cuts and stuff, but I haven’t found anything, and I can’t work out what’s bothering him!”

“Alright, let us have a look, shall we hey, handsome fella?”

Once again, Ron thought Hermione was talking about him, and he was about to start replying when he realised she’d turned her attention back to the dog, who was now putty in her hands. She continued to coo at him as she examined him thoroughly. Ron tried to let the sigh of the pretty vet calm him, but his stomach still rolled uncomfortably.

“So, uh, are you new here?” He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.

“Yep. I’ve been here about six weeks now. I qualified in London about a year ago, but I decided to try a more rural village when I got a bit bored of the city. It’s much easier to be friendly in a place like this!”

“Well, Ottery St. Catchpole is definitely more personable, that’s for sure. Everyone knows everybody’s business here. I’m surprised my mum hasn’t already told me about you, to be honest. She’s one of the worst out of them all…”

Hermione didn’t respond as she continued her examination. Eventually, she stepped away from the table and snapped off her medical gloves, a frown furrowing her brow.

“What is it? It’s bad, isn’t it?” Ron gulped. “He’s an old dog, and I knew things would start going downhill for him soon. I just thought he’d have a few more good years ahead of him still!”

Her frown dissolved into a warm smile as she glanced over at Ron again. “How long have you had that air cast on?”

“This thing?” He gestured to the awful grey boot on his left leg. “I chipped a bone in my foot three and a half weeks ago when I was playing football. It’s nothing major; they just wanted to stabilise it, so I didn’t make it worse, and I’m a builder, so I couldn’t really just put my foot up for six weeks.” 

Ron wasn’t sure why he was giving Hermione such a detailed answer.  _ Just three weeks _ probably would have satisfied her. But she was watching him with the same analytical look she had given Chudleigh, making Ron feel that he was the one being examined.

“Then I think I’ve found the cause of Chudleigh’s limp!” Hermione smiled and moved to her computer to type up her diagnosis. “See, dog’s form a close bond to their owners. Sometimes, they try to emulate them or mimic them, especially if they get more sympathy or attention from their injuries. They can also pretend they’re injured if they want to try and get their own way. And Chudleigh is limping on the same leg that you’ve injured.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide. He’d never know Chudleigh to fake an injury before. “That’s all it is?! The bloody dog is just trying to match me? Bloody hell Chudders, all of that worry for nothing, mate!” He let out a shaky sigh of relief. “How much is this going to cost me?!”

Hermione turned back to face Ron, beaming at him. “I’d feel guilty about taking your hard-earned money for a fake injury. How about you buy me a coffee Saturday morning? I’m not on shift, and if Chudleigh’s feeling better, then maybe we can go for a short walk too?”

“A coffee?!”

“Oh… sorry, you’re probably busy. I’m just so new here, and it would be really nice to make a few friends, get to know the place…” The vet was blushing as she trailed off, and Ron couldn’t help the small flutter he felt as his heartbeat picked up.

“No! That will be brilliant. I’m free this Saturday morning! Here, let me write down my number!” He took her offered pen and paper and quickly scribbled it down, hoping she didn’t notice the small shake in his hand. It wasn’t every day he got asked out at the veterinary surgery.

“Great! I’ll add you to my phone and drop you a text later so we can make plans! And I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

“See you Saturday!” Ron walked out of the treatment room, a massive smile on his face. He heard a small whine, and he realised that he’d left the dog sat on the table. He headed back in, his cheeks now burning bright red. “Come on, you idiot.” He gave Hermione one last wave before leaving quickly, resisting the urge to skip as he left the practice.


End file.
